


Soul by Soul and Silently

by Mei (Mei_Hitokiri)



Series: A Song of Inspiration [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mei_Hitokiri/pseuds/Mei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hears his name in the rain.<br/>He sees his face on the edge.<br/>He feels his touch in the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul by Soul and Silently

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Elliot Minor's "Silently".  
> The title, in case you were wondering, comes from the penultimate line of "I Vow to thee my Country".
> 
> As always, I appreciate all comments (including constructive criticism), so please feel free to do so.
> 
> ~Mei

**Soul by Soul and Silently**

It was raining, but John didn’t notice. He didn’t notice much these days. The weather was a trigger, as his therapist called them. Something that reminded him of the loss. He had given up alcohol. Addiction was hereditary and he wanted them to be able to use his organs for things other than scare campaigns when he died. This kind of rain - that soaked through and leeched the heat from your body no matter how many layers you wore – reminded him of when he’d had to choose. He could still feel the weight of the phone in his hand; see those long, elegant fingers extended towards him in askance. 

The staccato beat of the raindrops against his coat spelled his name. Morse code, searing pinpricks of distress; signs sending sidelong glances of pity. The music of the drops played songs that sang his name, and it hurt. It hurt, all the time. Sometimes a dull ache in his chest, enough to remind him but little enough that he can function. Other times it would be crippling; a pain that simultaneously tore him asunder and compressed him into the smallest being. He was failing to cope. He couldn’t sleep at night now. The sounds and sights and smells of Afghanistan would combine in his mind with that day until it was a cacophony of screaming; a hallowed chorus of perpetual anguish. It was too much for one man to cope with.

 

People were calling out, but John didn’t notice. He didn’t notice much these days. The height was a trigger, his therapist said, but he welcomed this one. At the edge he could see his face. It would smile at him, an old friend on a platform, waiting for him. It would frown at him; unable to comprehend the emotions that chased across his features. It would pout at him; a child, scolded but a parent for their careless behaviour. It would cry with him; real tears staining flawless cheeks in the knowledge that it was the end for them both. 

The dull thud of his heart ached with the realisation that it would never again accelerate in the thrill of the chase. It would never spike as he watched genius at work, or sigh as it translated for the incomprehensible. It would never reach a blinding crescendo before cooling down, completely entwined in the life of another.

 

He was falling, and he noticed. His therapist hadn’t identified this as a trigger, but he reasoned that was a good thing. The cold rush of air past his face was a lover’s caress. If she had thought this a possibility, it never would have happened. This was the only was, he knew. As each day passed he had become surer that this was the option he ought to take. 

 Even now, he found comfort in the way his heart spiked with adrenaline; that was a brush of elegant fingers across his own. The sting of the wind and the grit in his eyes was a tender kiss from soft, moist lips, pressed against a languorous pulse. What he was waiting for, what he needed, was the crunch of impact and the inviting blackness. In that he would feel the warm embrace of arms around his chest and a whisper of “Welcome home, my love.”


End file.
